


after this life, i’ll find you in the next

by outruntheavalanche



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chocolate Box Exchange, Chocolate Box Exchange 2019, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Gen, Light Implications of Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-24 07:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: “You’re dead.”Eleanor blinks at him. “Can you run that by me again, buddy?”“You died, Eleanor. You are deceased. You are no more,” he says. He offers a hand to her. “I’m Michael, the Architect.”





	after this life, i’ll find you in the next

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arghnon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arghnon/gifts).



> Written for [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Arghnon/profile)[**Arghnon**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Arghnon/) for Chocolate Box 2019. Say hello to the loosest interpretation of the reincarnation AU ever! This isn't as long as I originally intended, but I might try to expand on it later. 
> 
> Thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/izzetboilerworks/profile)[**izzetboilerworks**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/izzetboilerworks/) for the beta.
> 
> Title from "Finding You," by Kesha.

**Welcome!  
Everything is okay.**

Eleanor feels like she’s been here before, somehow. She feels like she’s sat on this very couch before, and stared at these same green words painted on the white wall opposite her, and she’s _been_ here before.

She knows she’s just being ridiculous. She’s probably just confusing this doctor’s office with some other doctor’s office, and it’s nothing. It’s not an omen or a premonition. It’s just déjà vu. 

A door opens and a man in glasses and a smart, white button-down shirt pokes his head out.

“Eleanor? Come on in.”

 

 

Eleanor sits across from the man—even _he_ feels familiar, somehow—and takes in the scope of his office. The walls are blank, but for the painting of a sad clown, one single, solitary tear rolling down its cheek. 

Eleanor nods to the clown painting behind the man’s head. “That’s creepy.”

“I like clowns,” the man says, setting a brown folder on the desk in front of him. “Let’s take a look at your file, Eleanor.”

“File? Am I in some sort of trouble? Is this a law office?” Eleanor asks, clasping her hands in her lap to keep from grabbing the folder and running out of his office with it. 

Eleanor suddenly feels sticky and she can’t keep her leg from bouncing out of nerves. Why’s she so nervous? She can take this guy. He’s not _that_ much taller than her. 

“No, you’re not in trouble,” the man says, looking up from her file and offering her a crooked smile. “You’re dead.”

Eleanor blinks at him. “Can you run that by me again, buddy?”

“You died, Eleanor. You are deceased. You are no more,” he says. He offers a hand to her. “I’m Michael, the Architect.”

Eleanor wraps her hand around his and goes still, as she clasps onto him. Something about his hand feels familiar too. She wants to keep holding onto his hand, which is _weird_.

Michael—and something gnaws uneasily at Eleanor’s gut at that—pulls his hand away and flips a page in her file. “It says here you were born in Phoenix, Arizona,” he says. “You went to school in Tempe, Arizona and currently live in Phoenix, Arizona.”

Eleanor frowns. “Yeah… That’s right.”

But nothing about this is right. She can’t shake off that funny sensation fluttering in her stomach. She’s sure _knows_ this person.

Suddenly, it feels like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

His name isn’t Michael. She knows this man from somewhere and his name isn’t Michael.

Not-Michael looks up from her file and notices her staring at him. “Yes?”

“You’re lying,” she says, jabbing a finger in the air. “Your name isn’t Michael.”

Not-Michael sits back and tightens his hands on the armrests of his leather chair. He clenches his teeth and Eleanor can see a muscle tic in his jaw. Also a vein starts bulging in his forehead and she wonders if there’ll be a mess to clean up later.

“Why would you think that?” he asks, a little tersely.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere,” she says. 

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he says, without conviction. “I’m Michael. We’ve never met before this moment.”

Eleanor taps her finger against her lips and scrutinizes him, her eyes narrowing. She flicks her gaze back to the clown painting behind his head and then back at him. “No, we’ve definitely met before.”

The man sighs and lifts his glasses off his face to rub his thumb over the bridge of his nose, and that’s when Eleanor knows. That’s when the last piece of the puzzle slots in. 

“Chidi,” she blurts out. 

She doesn’t know why the name suddenly bursts forth from the recesses of her mind, she doesn’t even know where she’s been storing that. She’s never known anyone named Chidi, or at least she doesn’t think so. But when she says it, it feels _right_. And Not-Michael, _Chidi_ sits behind his desk and looks at Eleanor and sighs sadly.

“This is a new afterworld record,” Chidi says, sounding almost amused as he flips Eleanor’s file shut and pushes it away with a heavy sigh. He sits back and folds his arms behind his head. “We have about five minutes before we get rebooted. Again.”

“What? Rebooted?” Eleanor asks. “What do you mean?”

Chidi leans forward. “You don’t remember. Well, you’re not supposed to remember _any_ of this. Me, The Good Place, none of it. But you always catch on, at some point, and we’re always rebooted.”

“ _Why_?” Eleanor asks, reaching out for his hand. 

“We failed Shawn’s test,” he says, letting her take his hand. He squeezes back gently. “Three times, actually. You, me, and Tahani. Ironically, the only one who never forked up was Jason.”

Eleanor clings onto Chidi’s hand with a sudden surge of desperation. She’s not entirely sure who Tahani or Jason are, but those names sound familiar too. 

“I’m not supposed to remember any of this, but I do,” she says. “And every time I do, I fail the test.”

Chidi nods, smiling grimly. “We don’t have much time and you don’t remember everything. But in every reboot, we loved each other. We didn’t have enough time this time, but next time we will.”

Sirens start blaring and red lights begin flashing as a familiar voice that Eleanor doesn’t know starts chanting, “Countdown to reboot in T-minus fifteen seconds.”

Eleanor squeezes his hand. “I don’t want to go.”

“You got this, Eleanor,” Chidi says, grinning at her. “We’ll get it right. I believe in us.”

Eleanor leans in to kiss him but—

 

 

Eleanor blinks her eyes open. 

**Welcome!  
Everything is wonderful!**

A door opens and a man steps out, offering Eleanor a smile and a wave.

He fiddles with the stem of his glasses before stepping aside and gesturing to the open door. “Eleanor? Come on in.”

Eleanor brushes her hands off on her pants and gets up. 

There’s something familiar about this man… She feels like she knows him. A thought flickers in the back of her mind like a guttering candle flame before it wicks out. 

Eleanor shrugs the errant thought off and follows him into his office.


End file.
